


Smoke and Mirrors

by TheMinnow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Romance, Spice Trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMinnow/pseuds/TheMinnow
Summary: You’re a princess and Boba Fett is your bodyguard. What more could you ask for?
Relationships: Boba Fett & Reader, Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

_Tss, tss, tss, tss…_

Spurs. Always just two steps behind you.

_Tss, tss, tss, tss…_

Your new shadow did not sit well with you.

A desert planet divided by two reigning governments was on brink of civil war. Arcada had been torn apart by mining, by politics, and by the Empire, and the only card left to play was a royal union — your imminent marriage to Jamie Barso, crown prince of the Western Dunes, was the first step towards unity.

_You hoped._

Though it would appear not all were happy. You had never needed a bodyguard, yet here you were being trailed by the meanest looking bounty hunter you had ever seen in your life.

“The threats are credible,” your father insists. “Please my dear, let your old man sleep soundly at night and accept Fett. He will protect you with his life.”

_Boba Fett._

A man you had heard so much about. A name that carried a reputation. You eye the bounty hunter closely, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at just the sight of him. His entire arsenal is strapped onto his body; charges, a missile, darts, knives… and he holds his rifle across his chest as if he would open fire any second.

“Hello, Fett…” you say tentatively, bowing your head.

Fett is silent. He nods his head at you once, remaining stiff against the wall. You feel your eyes searching him madly, not knowing where to look between the gun in his hands and the faceless helmet.

“Do you even know who made the threats?” you ask your father.

“Surely some terrorists from the Dunes…” he begins.

As your father continues to speak, you try not to stare at Boba Fett who stands just over his shoulder. This was a man who had killed, a man you had heard whispers of; whispers of honor, of murder, of revenge. The helmet turns back towards you and your eyes dart away as a heat burns in your cheeks.

“Is… is this really necessary?” you ask quietly. “What do you know about him?”

“ _Nobody_ is as good as Fett,” he says assuredly. “Please. Do it for me.”

Once more your eyes wander to reassess the bounty hunter. Yes, there was something sinister about his appearance with that decrepit armor and his concealed face. But there’s an elegance about him. It’s the way his head is held high. It’s the way he stands still, holding his shotgun across his chest, while his visor turns only slightly to scan the room — until his gaze lands on _you_. Boba smirks at the sight of your poorly concealed wonder and bows his head curtly to you in an small act of reassurance.

“Alright,” you answer impulsively. “He can stay.”

——————————————————

Arcada had been somewhat of a desert metropolis in its heyday, lying in the Mid Rim amongst Naboo and Kashyyyk. But its resources were depleted, as was its wealth, and the planet tore itself apart from the inside.

Your childhood existed in a golden haze inside your memory, being associated with peace, stability, carefree days spent with family and friends. Jamie had been there with growing up with you until one day, when you were around the age of ten, Arcada broke in two. He became a prince and you a princess, separated by miles and miles of sand, each being told what cause you would serve.

You had spent many years on Coruscant lobbying for assistance, but the Imperial bureaucrats were unhelpful and the folks from the opposing Western Dunes were uninterested in unity — although, according your fiancé, the people of his Dunes would say the same of those residing in the Badlands that you presided over…

Boba had escorted you home to your apartment that evening. In a way, his company was soothing for you, disregarding the fact that he was utterly silent at all times. But he had the gestures of a gentleman, respecting your privacy when asked, always offering his hand to assist you.

When Fett did speak, it was brief. His masked voice cut harshly through the air and his speech was not decorated with the niceties you were accustomed to. Boba was your complete opposite in nearly every sense of the word, but it had been so long since an offworlder had stumbled into your life that you were determined to know more.

“You don’t usually take jobs like this, do you?” you ask the mysterious man, breaking the silence.

Boba had been standing alert against the wall of your galley as you had pecked at a few snacks, presently pouring juice into a flask.

“No,” he answers finally, sauntering towards you. “But you’ll find I’m very capable of keeping watch, princess.”

_Tss, tss, tss, tss…_

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” you smile, stifling a laugh. You cross your arms and lean back on the counter, facing the bounty hunter. “Well I’m sorry to tell you, Fett, you’re going to be quite bored with me.”

Boba smirks from behind his helmet, mirroring your body language by slumping against the opposite ledge. “Why’s that, girl?”

“Because I think you’re used to adventure,” you muse.

Boba chuckles, cocking his head at you. “Adventure, little one, is different from _hunting_. I should take you on my next job.”

Your heartbeat quickens at his words. There was something about him; it was the way he talked or the way you could feel him looking at you that endeared you to him.

“I normally go out to sit at the canyons at night,” you start nervously, gripping the edge of the counter behind you. “Get fresh air… clear my head… will you come?”

“Did you expect to go alone, little one?”

_Little one._

Alright. So you were doing this. You were going on your nightly excursion with Boba Fett, although perhaps it wasn’t that nightly of a routine for you. 

Boba insisted on driving the speeder bike, which, you suppose, was to be expected. He wanted to be in charge of things. He wanted you safe.

But that leaves you to hang onto him.

Cautiously, you wrap your arms around the bounty hunter. He’s built like a tank, and you are forced to lean into him in order to keep a good grip on his large form. _Kriff_ , he smells like blaster smoke and musk… it’s intoxicating. You bite your lip and can all but rest your chin on his shoulder as he speeds off into the night.

Arcadan nights are deceptively bright. The desert sky provides a striking clarity of the moon and stars, casting a blue light over the dunes and canyons. You speed through the desert with ease, hanging on to the man in front of you, giving directions in his ear.

You lead him to a small ridge that overlooks the canyon, full of ancient palms below and stars above in the sky, and Boba offers a gloved hand to ease you off of the speeder. _Stars, even his grip was strong..._

“You used to the desert heat yet?” you ask.

“I'm from a planet of rain and water,” Boba smirks, following you up the hill. “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to it here, or on Tatooine.”

“Aren’t you from Mandalore?”

Boba was naturally weary of divulging information, but he feels the innocence of your curiosity and decides to indulge you. “I’m from Kamino,” he says after a moment.

You take a seat on the ledge, taking out the bottle of nectar you had poured and setting the metal flask between you as an offering to share.

Boba sits beside you and, without warning, he takes off his helmet revealing his face you.

He might have been the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. His age was hard to tell; he was older than you, surely, though he had the grim face of a warrior that you had seen so many men adapt. But it was a kind face. And his eyes were soft.

“You are getting married,” Boba states, breaking you out of your trance.

“Yes…” you confirm, intrigued by the bounty hunter’s observation. “I am.”

Boba takes a sip of the nectar. “I’ve heard much of Jamie Barso.”

“I bet you have,” you say with amusement. “Who hasn’t?”

Your response surprises the bounty hunter. “Are you not fond of him?” he asks.

Perhaps the question was bold of Boba, but you had never claimed a grand romance with your fiancé. So you talk.

“ _Fond_ ,” you repeat. “No, I’m fond of him. We were children together and he is a friend… but he…” you falter, cringing as you think of what to say next.

Boba hands you the bottle, allowing you a friendly escape from the uncomfortable position he had put you in. You chuckle slightly from your nerves, accepting his gesture and taking a small swig.

What was there to say about Jamie? When you needed his friendship the most you would find him unavailable, surrounded by women, by alcohol… _by spice_. Then he would come back to you after the storm had passed, claiming good intentions, asking for a night with you without understanding how much he had utterly lost you somewhere along the way.

Perhaps a kiss or two had been exchanged, or the occasional embrace between friends when you both found each other in need of company... but that Jamie you knew was nowhere to be found. And you suspected he wouldn’t return.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow,” you say quietly.

Boba takes the flask back from you for a drink. Silence could feel heavy, but the two of you feel perfectly at peace here up on this ridge basking in the night air, almost feeling like old friends sharing a drink and each other’s company.

“Your helmet is impressive,” you say after a moment, looking over at it resting beside him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it.”

“I suppose it is,” Boba agrees. “Feels like a part of me by now.”

“Can I see it?” you ask quietly.

Boba cocks an eyebrow at you and, after considering your request, places the helmet gently in your lap.

The old piece of armor is heavier than you expected. You run your fingertips lightly over the dents and scratches — surely they all told a story. “It’s seen a lot, hasn’t it?” you remark.

“Indeed it has.”

Boba feels an unfamiliar warmth emanating through his chest as he watches the way your soft skin skims over the helmet with such care, as if your touch could possibly damage the impenetrable metal. Would your touch tread just as lightly over the man who carried scars just as deep as his armor’s?

It was not surprising that a man like Boba Fett would be more concerned with practicality than appearances, but the helmet’s paint was chipping severely. In the patches of missing burnt red are faint flecks of another color.

“It used to be blue here,” you note out loud.

Boba remains silent and takes the helmet back gently after a moment, fastening it back over his head. “Let’s get you home, girl,” he says, his voice clouded by the helmet once again. “It’s not safe for you to be out this late.”

The journey back is spent in silence. You wrap your arms around Boba tightly, finding the contact more natural this time. Your eyes shift to look at Boba’s gloved hands clutching the steering vanes. He turns to look back at you subtly, his body sitting tall and straight, tense from the way your arms felt delicate and secure wrapped around him.

You make it home safely. Boba helps you down from the speeder once again and escorts you inside like a gentleman.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you step back into your living room; you had just realized the dilemma at hand. “I didn’t think about where you were going to sleep.”

“There are soldiers outside, yes?”

“Yes.”

Boba nods slowly. “Good… then right here is just fine.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “I will send my handmaiden to bring you whatever you may require,” you say as he removes his helmet once more. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” Boba says with a bow of his head. “Sleep well, girl.”

You laugh a breathless laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Why do you call me that?” you ask the bounty hunter.

 _Girl_ could sound so degrading when spoken by a man with less respect. Coming from Boba’s lips, however, the word feels like a term of endearment.

“Did I offend you?” Boba asks in return with boyish inelegance.

His unassuming charm makes your breath hitch. You smile away from the bounty hunter, finding yourself hot in the cheeks, when Boba grabs your arm.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says lowly. “Would you prefer I call you that?”

You search Boba’s face for any sign of mockery but find none. “Yes,” you agree.

_Dank ferrik, he was so handsome._

“As you wish,” he nods, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Goodnight, Boba.”

“Goodnight… _princess_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Boba thought about his father often. He could hear Jango’s voice echoing through his mind, as if he was only standing over Boba’s shoulder:

_Trust no one but use everyone. No friends, no enemies. Only allies and adversaries. The bounty hunter is free of attachments._

There was a moment that Boba never forgot, a memory that still replayed in his dreams. He was just a boy, he couldn’t have been more than seven. He had wondered outside of Jango’s quarters, scurrying through the whitewashed hallways of Tipoca City, spurred on by a child’s curiosity.

Jango had told him not to wander, but Boba was too much of his father’s son…

He spotted a group of older boys who looked just like him, clustered together outside of one of the clone lecture halls. They seemed friendly enough; teasing each other, laughing, glancing at Boba with curiosity. Boba had seen the clones every day but he had never gotten close…

“Rex!” one of them called with a smirk, nudging the clone beside him. “Who’s the kid?”

The young man named Rex glanced Boba’s way, locking eyes with the child. Boba was taken aback by his visibility but he held the gaze, looking back at the clone with wide eyes.

Rex laughed to himself. He simply nodded towards Boba in acknowledgment with a knowing smile, amused by the child’s bewilderment.

 _“Boba!”_ Jango snapped, whisking the boy away quickly.

Boba pouted in silence as Jango led them back to their quarters, fighting back tears. “Why do you get so mad at me, _buir_?” he asks as the door shuts.

“I’m not mad at you,” Jango huffs, kneeling down in front of the boy. “I’m not mad you, _ad’ika_ , but I told you not to leave this room.”

“Were they bad?”

“They— no, it’s not that,” he responds. Jango’s face softens as he takes his sons small face in his hands, softening his tone of voice. “It’s just you and me here, okay? It’s always gonna be just us.”

With every passing day, Boba adapted more and more of his father’s worries. He understood him now. How could he not, considering they shared every likeness, every trait?

If you were not a princess, if Boba Fett had not been placed in charge of your protection, he would have tried to have you. Watching from the corner there, the masked man would have noted the little things about you; your smile, the swell of your chest, the way in which you sip your drink. He’d concoct fleeting fantasies, wondering if you were as sweet as your smile said you were.

He would have offered you a night in his bed. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Move on. A pretty girl underneath him to provide a small stroke of his ego, a brief moment of company, a release of tension for your bodies.

That’s all he could offer you.

And then he would be on to the next system, putting memories away from his mind. But _you _…__ Boba could never really forget you.

And you were already under his skin.

———————————————————

It was no surprise that Boba was the first thing on your mind that morning. The events of last night replayed in your mind, as if to make sure it had not been a dream. Boba had left you wanting more; an escape, an adventure… and something else entirely.

It wasn’t love exactly, no. But it was _that spark_ … that sort of desire to touch and to explore, to see how he could make you feel, to see what he could teach you. This bounty hunter had unlocked something in you that no other man had. A dynamic of mutual trust and power held you together and, out there alone under the stars, you were just a man and a woman caught up in the idea of each other.

You had hoped to escape unnoticed to the galley to make your morning caf so, throwing your robe around your body, you tiptoe outside your bedroom and through the apartment.

Boba is there standing over your table with his weapons lined up, wiping down a large rifle, wearing only his flight suit.

“Hi,” you choke.

The man drinks in the sight of you fresh out of bed, his eyes darting over your form quickly. “Morning, princess,” he replies with the bow of his head, turning back to his work with a soft smile.

“Did you eat?” you ask.

“Your handmaiden brought me breakfast… girl looked like she’d seen a ghost,” he laughs under his breath.

You giggle quietly, recalling the first time you had laid eyes on the bounty hunter. “You’ll have to forgive her,” you tell him, rummaging through the cupboards. “Whenever there are armored men here, it usually means something is wrong.”

Boba nods slowly and sets down his rifle. _Maker, how lovely you looked in the morning…_

“Would you like some caf?” you ask.

“I’d appreciate it. Plain, if you would,” Boba’s gruff voice answers. _Of course he takes it plain._ You pour him a cup and set it on the counter. “Today is your meeting,” he continues, beginning to work on the next blaster.

“Yes,” you confirm, pouring your own cup. “I’m going to get ready and we’ll leave.”

What an intimate thing it was to share a lazy morning, neither dressed for the public eye, still groggy from sleep. Boba grits his teeth as he feels a sinking weight in his chest, scrubbing his blaster hard.

When you arrive at the capitol’s legislative building, a small old relic that had rarely been used since the divide, you are greeted by Jamie and his entourage of men. There he was with that smile, the one that made you feel like you were the only person he ever wanted to see — even if it was a lie.

You would never know Jamie was a prince by looking at him. He stands tall and lean with blonde hair, his blue eyes made even more striking by sun kissed skin. Underneath an open old brown vest was a faded shirt — with one too many buttons undone, of course — and a blaster was strapped to his thigh.

Jamie didn’t pretend to be something he was not, and it was something that you loved about him. It was something familiar. It was the sight of an old friend. Reluctant as you both were to take on these roles, he had not changed.

“Jamie,” you say with a smile as your hand reaches out for him.

“Howdy, princess,” he smirks, pecking a kiss to your cheek. As you pull away from his embrace, you notice his eyes lock straight onto Boba standing behind you.

“Jamie, this is my new guard, Boba Fett,” you say tentatively. “He’ll be accompanying me for now.”

“Fett?” Jamie scoffs, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to see Jabba has loaned out his favorite pet.”

Your eyes dart to Boba, who chuckles darkly before taking two slow steps forward towards the prince. “And I’m surprised to see you know Jabba so well,” he counters, voice crackling through the helmet.

Jamie scowls in response and brushes past Boba into the meeting room, leaving you behind.

“So that’s your Prince Charming?” Boba quips dryly.

You are left with a dumbfounded expression, a cold chill running up your spine. It was no surprise that Boba would be affiliated with the Hutt gangster, however much the idea frightened you. But Jamie…

“Come on,” Boba says softly, guiding you inside gently with a hand on the small of your back.

———————————————————

 _The wedding this, the treaty that_ …. the talk made Boba grateful he was not a politician.

His ears would perk up when you would speak, admiring the way you captivated your listeners. He noticed the way your pretty eyes kept flickering back to him, unaware that he was staring right back at you. Jamie slouched in his chair as others spoke, in contrast, looking across at you in nonverbal communication. You’d smile disapprovingly as you tried to pay attention but couldn’t help a silent laugh at times, much to the prince’s pleasure.

As the meeting adjourns, all parties gather in the lobby as final remarks are made. Boba stands at your side, his visor scanning the room as the chatter continues… something was off… something makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end… and then…

_BOOM._

Boba pulls you to the ground before you can react and reaches his hand behind your head to cushion your fall against hard sandstone. It’s as if you are stunned. You can hear distant blaster fire over the ringing of your ears, but you find yourself disoriented, hands mindlessly grabbing at Boba’s chest plate above you, breathing heavily.

“Princess. Princess, look at me,” Boba says with urgency, wrapping a hand around your jaw. You blink up at him with wide eyes, finally steadying yourself. “There’s a good girl. I got you.”

He reaches a hand under your back and hoists you upright in an impressive feat of strength, keeping you safe against his chest with a strong arm around your waist. As Jamie scrambles to his feet, a Trandoshan emerges from the flames triumphantly, wielding a grenade launcher.

“Stand down!” Jamie barks, firing with utter abandon.

Boba uses the distraction to whisk you away from the scene and slings you onto his lap as he speeds off on your bike.

“Where are you going?!” you shout in panic when he hits open sand.

“My ship! I’m not bringing you back until I know what’s going on,” he replies over the roar of the engines. You ride deep into the desert for what feels like miles, your mind struggling to process what had occurred, until you approach an old ship hidden amongst the dunes.

As your feet finally make contact with the ground beneath you, Boba takes your head in his hands and turns it gently in silent examination. “I’m fine,” you mumble. “I just want to find out what happened.”

“Leave it to me, princess,” he says pointedly, brushing your chin.

———————————————————

Boba had laid you down to rest in his bed. It was easy to drift into a light sleep; you’re sore and a headache was starting to set in. Your body needed the moment’s peace.

The bounty hunter steps out into the blinding light of the desert’s high noon just as he receives a call and, reaching for his comlink, accepts the incoming hologram. “You broke the deal, Jabba,” Boba seethes quietly.

 _“Did your little princess get hurt, young Fett?”_ the slug laughs in Huttese.

Boba does not find the remark amusing. He looks back towards Slave I where you rested, gripping his belt tightly. “She is not to be touched,” he says. “Sending Bossk was a mistake.”

 _“Sending Bossk was a warning,”_ Jabba claims. _“If the prince is who I believe him to be, I want him to be living in fear of the mighty Hutt Clan.”_

“Allow me to do my job and I will get what you requested. You know I deliver… _unlike yourself_ ,” Boba sneers.

_“As they say, young bounty hunter… I have altered the deal. Pray I do not alter it any further.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @janghoefett


End file.
